It’s been eleven days since I was placed on the national transplant list. Eleven days of waiting for the call that could change everything. That might seem like a short time, but let me tell you—waiting tends to stretch time.

Every vibration of my phone sends a jolt through my body. My heart leaps, then sinks, as I check to see if this is the moment. Nighttime offers no relief. Sleep is scattered, interrupted by thoughts of surgery, recovery, and all the unknowns that come with it. I try to stay present, grounded, peaceful—but some days I’m just plain exhausted.

I wish I could say I’m handling this part well. I wish I could tell you that I’m calm, collected, and full of faith. But the truth is, the waiting has gotten heavy.

Like a slow, quiet ache. A mental exhaustion that sneaks up on you. A heaviness that presses just hard enough to wear you down if you’re not careful.

When Waiting Isn’t Passive

It’s in this space that I’ve been thinking about others who waited. The ones we read about in Scripture who didn’t get answers right away—David, Joseph, and Hannah. Each of them had a promise or a longing that took time to unfold. But the waiting didn’t make them any less faithful. If anything, it made their faith real.

David was anointed king but spent years hiding in caves before ever wearing a crown.

Joseph was given dreams, then lived years in slavery and prison before stepping into his calling.

Hannah waited for a child, and year after year, she brought her grief and longing to God with steadfast persistence.

Their waiting seasons weren’t tidy or easy. But through it all, God was shaping them, preparing the way, and showing up in the spaces where their waiting lingered.

Holding on to Hope Through the “What Ifs”

I know what I’m waiting for—new lungs. A chance to breathe deeply again. I’m hopeful about what life could be like after surgery. But even that hope is tangled up in a web of “what ifs” I’m not quite ready to unpack here.

Staying Close When You Feel Worn Down

Still, this season isn’t passive. Waiting on God doesn’t mean doing nothing. It means trusting even when we don’t have answers. It means clinging to His promises when everything within us wants to let go. It means showing up—exhausted, scared, uncertain—and whispering, “I still believe You’re good.”

I’ve come to realize that God isn’t asking me to be strong in the waiting. He’s asking me to stay close—keep showing up in prayer, in Scripture, in stillness—even when I feel frayed at the edges.

For Anyone Else Carrying Something Heavy

Maybe you’re in a waiting season too. Maybe your prayer hasn’t been answered yet. Maybe you’re still searching for direction, healing, or restoration. Whatever the case, you’re not alone. Waiting can feel heavy sometimes, but it’s not empty.

God hasn’t stepped away. He’s not pacing the floor or watching the clock. He’s working. Forming. Holding. And He hasn’t let go of you.

If you’re carrying something heavy today—waiting on healing, clarity, provision, or peace—I hope this reminder shows you that your faith doesn’t have to be perfect to be real. Sometimes, simply staying close to God during the wait is the bravest kind of faith there is.

Want more encouragement for seasons of waiting or uncertainty?
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